davidthedesigner

Ceci m'a fait le sourire (Pt 1)

Paris from the dome of Sacre Coeur

Ah, Paris. City of joie de vivre, esprit de corps, and that certain je ne sais quoi. After I won David's competition, and secured my two free Eurostar tickets, David asked if I'd write a post or two reporting back from my travels. So here I am. If you're one of those for whom holiday snaps and anecdotes produce instant narcolepsy, it's probably best you stop here.

Un peu d'un bargain

Okay, so for those still reading, this jaunt began in earnest when we (my wife, Wendy, and I) decided it was last-minute enough to try some last-minute hotel deals. 

After plenty of surfing, we found what looked like an amazing deal on the Mr & Mrs Smith site: one of those hidden-gem boutique hotels, tucked away behind a garden wall in the hodge-podge of streets around Montmartre: Le Hotel Particuliere (of which more in Pt 2). It was advertised at €160 (about £140 these days), instead of the usual €390. Wow: you don't see bargains like that very often. We tapped the card details in at top speed before it went away.

Well, to cut a long story short, it turned out the price was a mistake, and we were asked to pay €90 more. I got very huffy, and consulted the Twitterverse:

Twitter, as ever, was swift and accurate with the answer: essentially, 'No.' Arse. Still fuming, I wrote a snotty email to Mr & Mrs Smith. Shortly after, the phone rang and a very nice lady from Mr & Mrs Smith told Wendy we could have the price as originally quoted. I suddenly felt a bit guilty for writing such a 'Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells' message. Still, it did the trick.

The names on the trains

With our two boys safely in the hands of their Granny (God bless Grannies), we wanted to make the most of our two days in France, so we got up ridiculously early and made the 6.40 train to London. By 9am we were in our 'Leisure Select' seats on the Eurostar.

Wendy settles in

I know I should have been relaxing, but that name, 'Leisure Select', got my copywriter brain going. It's actually First Class, although they don't call it that any more because they've made their Business Premier class the top level. 

But 'Leisure Select' doesn't sound like First Class, does it? To me, it sounds more like a bus ticket or something: one of those rather basic products that's given a slightly aspirational-sounding name to make you (or, more often, the provider) feel better about it.

Naming aside, though, the seats were great. And two hours, 20 minutes later we were in Paris. (Only slightly longer than the journey from Dorking to St Pancras.)

Le Tour Eiffel from Montmartre

Montmartre isn't far from the Gare du Nord, so we walked it, and arrived among the steep, cobbled avenues and the endless flights of steps feeling happy but hungry. In Montmartre, you can't throw a pain au chocolat without hitting a charming little bistro, so we went into the first one we stopped outside: Le Progres, it was called. 

A lunchtime surprise

Pic of Le Progres from Paris-Bistro.com

We squeezed either side of a tiny table just inside the door, and soon enough were presented with two great-looking plates: chicken and chips for Wendy, which of course sounds better as poulet au frites, and a huge slice of roast salmon for me. 

Alongside this splendid bit of fish were two odd-looking discs that I took for mushrooms. I love my food, and am always keen to try something new, so popped one of these peculiar-looking things into my mouth.

It was not a mushroom.

Whatever it was, it was the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten. It was like chewing on a slice of ripe, aged dog turd. At least, that was the first image that came to mind as my tastebuds howled in protest and searched desperately for the exit. 

Eventually I swallowed the damn thing, my vision started to clear, and over Wendy's shoulder I saw three middle-aged French women convulsed with laughter at my tortured expressions. One was even reduced to holding her napkin over her eyes, to soak up the tears. Every time they started to calm down, one of them would glance over at me, and they'd be in hysterics again. 

I have a theory these jolly femmes go regularly to Le Progres, to watch idiot Englishmen like me eat whole slices of what I now know to be Andouille: boiled and roasted tripe sausage. 

Andouille as shown on Wikipedia. 

The English waiter explained what it was, and that 'it's not very popular with foreigners.' Indeed. Still, it was an excuse for another beer to wash it all down. And the rest of the food was fantastic. 

It was also nice to reflect that I could honestly claim to have made three local women very happy within less than two hours of arriving. 

There's more to tell, but you'll have to wait (with bated breath, no doubt) while I get some work done. Look out for Part 2, kids!

i'm taking the day off...

...to ponder.

should i take the money and run?

I expect you're wondering what's going on around here these days? Nothing but questions, isn't it? And posts without pictures - that's not how it's meant to be, now is it?

But I've just been asked if I'd like to be paid to post a video feature which advertises beer. Yes, you read that right: beer. And not even designer beer. But the sort of beer that scallywags in Liverpool down by the four-pack. Before they hot wire the beemer. (By the way, if you're from Liverpool, I'm just pulling your leg. There's no offence intended.)

Of course, they haven't told me exactly how much money. But you can bet your bottom dollar that it'll be considerably less than they'd pay to get the same video onto TV. And there's a condition: 75% of you have to be over the age of 18. So how am I supposed to know how old you are?

What shall I do? Shall I take the money and run? Or should I tell them where to stick it?

And if I do take the money, do I draw the line at alcohol? Or shall I go for for broke and hustle around for a tobacco deal, and maybe a little porn on the side?

Your wish is my command, as it were.

this made me smile #97

"well, let us begin. first of all, u suck. u suck because every time i look at your work i feel like I've thought of the same things u design but u beat me to it. i know its easier said than done. well i would like to actually say thank you. first of all because you inspired me to be a designer and also because you still inspire me to stick to it. I'm 22 years old, and its hard being an armature graphic designer since there are so many prodigies in this field who seem to get younger and younger. then you come out with of the blue... start out at 25 or 26 (cant really remember) and still be able to create such kick ass work with such passion and start a rucks in the design world. u r the cliche of breaking the rules and making it work and that is just cool man."

Anyone like to guess who this is about?

hello, i'm back

Yes, that's where I've been (not that one, though - a different one, although still with the missing apostrophe). And I'm not supposed to talk about it. Though it's difficult to know what I can't talk about, when the proceedings are held in public (that is the public can attend, although they don't). But the press sometimes attends, I've discovered. But they have to have a reason. Like being able to file a report containing the words 'home to the families of the Duchess of York, Sarah Ferguson and socialite Tara Palmer-Tomkinson' no matter how tenuous the link to the actual case. Nothing sells newspapers quite like upper-class crumpet, obviously.

Actually, I do know what I can't talk about; and that's the process by which we (as in we the jury) reached our decisions. And there were four decisions: four deaths over two days. Three hangings in prison and one man struck by a train. And, yes, it's grim. And thought-provoking. And profoundly sad. And 'there but for the grace of God go I'. But if you ever get asked to sit on a jury (actually you'll be issued with a 'summons') do go and do it. Even if it's only out of public duty.

Meanwhile I have to get my brain back into the land of the living.

Bonjour

Bienvenue a my little stint on David's blog. In fact, it's not even a stint, really. It's just after I emerged as the lucky winner from David's splendid hat, he asked if I'd report back from my Eurostar jaunt with a post or two. It seems a small price to pay.

(There must be more to Paris than this. From Panoramio)

I also thought you lot probably know all manner of hidden Parisian gems that my wife Wendy and I could explore during our two days there. So I thought I'd ask for suggestions, and then report on them. Or at least one or two of them.

In fact, inspired by Ben, I've even grabbed the TypePad iPhone app, so may even blog from the locations themselves. Try to contain your excitement.

All I have at the moment is the Eurostar tickets. We're going to do the last-minute hotel thing (again, recommendations gratefully received), but the schedule for our two days is pretty much clear. We both want to go back to the Musée D'Orsay, because, well, why wouldn't you? But what else should we know about that's a bit more off the beaten track? Galleries, restaurants, shops, historic monuments, whatever. I don't know Paris all that well, and would love to hear your ideas.

All thoughts welcome in the comments, and thanks in advance for helping me enjoy my prize.

...and it's goodbye from me, and hello from him

I'm not at all sure that I should be telling you this, but I have to go off and do my civic duty and sit on a jury for a little while. It might only be for a day or two (according to my 'summons') - but who knows, I might get a big one.

Anyway, while I'm away, Mike would like to have a word or two. I'm sure you'll remember Mike: he's been here before, though not for a while. And he's the one who's off to Paris on the 22nd, having won my smiley competition.

Be nice to him, won't you?

this made me smile #96

(via my good friend Jeanne)

david pearson is over there

We all love the work of David Pearson, don't we? Well, now you can read what he has to say in his own words by popping over to Canada and taking a peek at The Casual Optimist (and thanks to David's working neighbour Alistair for the heads up).

And when you get to the bottom of the interview take a look at the preceding post, which happens to have a reference to little old me.

i would have been so tempted, wouldn't you?

I guess you must have seen Mike Dempsey's lovely album cover stamps by now? Maybe some of you might think that they're merely an homage to Johnson Banks' Beatles Stamps - but, hey, given the subject matter, wouldn't all of us like to have arrived at the same solution? And it's another lesson to us all that it's simplicity that can so often deliver brilliance.

Amongst designers at least, the perceived impression seems to be that this series of stamps is all about album cover designs. But, actually, isn't it really about the music? And that really tells you something, doesn't it? Not a single non-white face in sight, and only one very well-hidden woman, as far as I can see. I know they all have to be albums by British acts - but isn't our musical heritage far more diverse and interesting than this lot amounts to? Why no Courtney Pine or Nitin Sawhney - or Dusty Springfield or Shirley Bassey?

Anyway, it would be interesting to know how many of these albums you actually own? I can hold my hands up and say it's just the one - and, no, it's not Coldplay (as if). It's Power, Corruption and Lies (on cassette), if you must know.

And getting back to the design bit. If I'd been handed this brief I'd have been so sorely tempted to sneak one in, wouldn't you?

Bang goes my MBE, then.